2013.04.29 - Eating of the Minds
Scenes from an Italian restaurant... Overcast and cool, it must be a Monday in April. After a morning out and about in Greenwich Village, Fern is settling in for her dinner shift at Anita Bella. A few tables are already occupied, being tended by other servers, and her section is just about to open up. She does a last check, making sure everything is just so, brushing hands lightly over her skirt, giving her nametag a withering glance before she walks toward the front door, her dingy white sneakers squeaking lightly on the floor as she moves. Erik Lehnsherr is apparently unescorted today. Elegantly dressed in a Saville Row suit, the silver-haired gentleman steps into Anita Bella with a confident stride. His presence alone sends the hostess scurrying for a menu, practically scraping and bowing to bring him a seat at the head of the line. Erik settles into the table just as Fern's section is opened, her first customer, and lifts a finger to get Fern's attention as she passes by. "Coffee, please. Black, no cream." Fern stops immediately, sidestepping to the arrival that the new hostess, Marta, seated. Her smile is warm and friendly, "Evening, sir. I'm Fern, I'll be serving you tonight. Coffee, black, coming right up." She doesn't seem hurried, but she's quick to go about her task, and it's only a minute later that she's returned with the coffee, an assortment of sweeteners, and a basket of still-warm rosemary bread slices with butter on the side. The silverware, wrapped in the napkin, and a bread plate are already on the table. "Did you need a minute or two with the menu, sir?" "No, thank you. Pasta agnolotti, please," Erik says. "con Insalate prosciutto e vino. The 1995 Ripasso Della Valpolicella Campognola, as well," he adds, casually ordering a three-hundred dollar bottle of wine to go with his meal. His Italian is nearly flawless- one would be hard pressed to tell he's not a native speaker, though his English is accented by something that is more Eastern European. He folds the menu up and smiles pleasantly at Fern, setting it aside on the table. "And some water, please," he adds. Nothing gets written down, but Fern listens attentively and nods her head when the man folds his menu, before she takes it up to clear it away from the table for him. "Certainly. And water." Even though it isn't often one of the 'big bottles', as she calls them, gets ordered, she doesn't bat an eyelash at the request. "I'll just be a moment." She is unfailingly pleasant, but that's the general way of the staff of Anita Bella. The guest is the most important thing. Again, there's that light squeak as she goes off toward the kitchen, a vision in dull mustard yellow. The front door of the restaurant opens again, and another well-dressed gentleman makes an appearance. While the previous customer commanded respect naturally, this one is obviously trying. Justin Hammer walks in like he owns the place, smiling broadly to the hostess. Picking up a menu, she leads him over to Fern's section. "My thanks." Erik nods at Fern as she leaves, then flicks open a newspaper with an easy gesture, folding it back so he can read it comfortably with his free hand. Fern comes and goes with his water, and Erik's blue eyes slip sideways to Justin Hammer as the industrialist enters. He smirks mirthlessly to himself at Justin's pretension, but turns his face back to the paper as the billionaire is seated next to the more elder of the men. Fern caught the signal from Marta this time, sending up a quick thanks that the new girl is catching on, and she's back almost immediately after dropping off the water at the other table. This time, she brings a water immediately, already having been gently chastised from Anita for her lapse. There's a glance to the older gentleman's table to take a quick inventory, before her eyes shift as she puts the water down, her smile blooming for the new arrival. "Evening, sir. I'm Fern, I'll be serving you tonight. Can I get you something to drink while you look over the menu?" As with every customer, she's friendly and warm, but her eyes linger on him a moment. He looks vaguely familiar. But a lot of people in New York are famous. Justin Hammer looks to the waitress when she addresses him, giving her the same smile that he gave to the hostess. It's friendly, yes, but one can't help but feel it's contrived or over acted. "Ah, do you have any good wine recommendations?" he asks, motioning toward the wine list on the table. "You might try the Chateu l' Blanc '94," Erik offers solicitously, leaning over to Justin's table. He recommends the four hundred dollar bottle of wine as casually as if suggesting a diet soda. "That is, if you're having the fish. If your tastes run more towards the Pasta Garganelli, then I would recommend perhaps a Malbec, or the Cabernet Sauvignon." He flicks his newspaper in his hands, winks at Fern, and glances back at the financial section. Fern is saved having to fetch someone more knowledgeable about wine from the kitchen by Erik's interjection, and she flashes the man a grateful smile. But her eyes are immediately back on Justin, awaiting his answer, but her posture says nothing to indicate she would rush the man into his decision. Again, her order pad has not been produced, her hands folded together in front of her. The CEO looks from the waitress to the older gentleman at the next table. He isn't able to hide the slight look of shock he gets when he recognizes who's seated next to him. Smiling a bit to cover his reaction, Justin looks back to Fern. "I think I'll go with the Chateu l' Blanc as recommended," he replies with a hint of a New England accent. After placing his wine order he looks back to Erik. "Not everyday I get a wine recommendation from someone of such notoriety," Hammer comments offhandedly. "Not at all, Mister Hammer," Erik says with an inclination of his head. "And hardly the fame of the CEO of Hammer Industries. I've been following you in the stock markets the last few days. Congratulations on your Dow increase," Erik offers the man. It's true- Hammer's seen a small surge in profits. "A new marketing tactic, perhaps? Or is Hammer Industries preparing a new product release?" "Thank you, sir, I'll be right back with that, and to take your order," Fern says to Justin, turning immediately. She doesn't move off quickly enough to miss the opening exchange between the two men, even slowing a bare measure to catch one man's name said by the other. Hammer. But she's not one to keep up with the business pages, and still doesn't put the face to the one she's seen in black and white in Julius' morning paper. She doesn't rush in the kitchen, trying to judge just enough time to give the men a chance to talk before she returns with the interruption of a laden tray. She peeks out the kitchen door, then goes back to collect her things. In the meantime, one of the other servers, Jerry, who acts as something of the restaurant's sommelier, unobtrusively takes care of both bottles of wine for the men. Justin Hammer glances toward the waitress as she walks off before turning back to Erik. "A bit of both. Can't say too much, of course, but I've got a couple new tricks up my sleeve." He tries to act nonchalant during the conversation, but there's an edge in his voice. He takes a drink of the wine after it's brought to the table and nods approvingly. "Good choice, Mr. Lehnsherr. So, how are things on... your side of things?" "As well as one can hope," Erik admits wryly. "Working for nonprofits is far from as exciting as the larger business world. Ups and downs, relying on the generosity of donors and special interest groups to keep us funded. We're always hurting for financial stability. But, such is life," he says, with the sound of a man quoting a bedrock firm maxim. "Hopefully we can get things a bit more stable in a few weeks, when we open our new Gotham center up." Judging that a suitable time has passed, Fern emerges from the kitchen with a tray, staying silent as the men converse. But mention of donors and funding has her eyes on Erik again, and she suddenly realizes she's seen the man before, across the room at the Hellfire Club. She also just caught his name as Justin said it, and files it away. The quiet waitress sets Mr. Lehnsherr's salad before him, waiting a moment for him to complete his sentence, before offering, "Fresh pepper?" from the wooden mill she holds. She will provide it, or not, as he prefers, before sliding the step to Justin's side. "Have you decided what you would like, Mr. Hammer?" she asks, waiting first for him to look toward her so she doesn't interrupt. Justin nods lightly at Erik's words. "They say that good work is never easy work," he returns with a light wave of his hand. When Fern returns, he falls quiet until he's addressed. "I'll have the Seafood Portofino, and a bowl of the pasta figioli. Please." He smiles to her a bit more genuinely this time. The fact he was referred to by name is a small but welcomed ego boost. Erik nods at Fern. "A few turns, please." He turns back to Justin. "Mind sharing a bit of inside information with an old man? I'm always curious about the latest innovations coming out of the industry, even though I don't invest. I'd love to be able to tell a few people I heard it straight from the horse's mouth before the press release goes to print." Fern's smile warms further, seeing Justin's own measure of easing. "Excellent, sir." She sees to her last task, setting out a basket with some warm slices of rosemary bread for Justin, along with butter, just as she had for Erik before. She's also pleased that the two gentlemen, each having come in alone, have found something in common to talk about. Mental note, commend Marta on seating them near each other and not each so they were an island. She's already plotting the timing so both men will have their entrees together. That light squeak sounds as she goes back to the kitchen. Justin gives Fern a nod and leans back in his chair. He'll have to tread carefully if things are going to turn to business, there's a lot he can't, and doesn't want, to say to someone like Erik. "Well, as I'm sure you know, things have been more than a little unstable lately. There's a lot of push in weapon's development, and unmanned solutions." Mostly information that's obvious, with a hint toward something else. It was an unmanned aerial drone project that landed Hammer Industries in the news a couple years ago when it went terribly wrong. "That's fascinating," Erik congratulates Justin, even though the man's said nothing at all of relevance. He smiles at Fern as she peppers his salad, and digs in with polite bites. He even uses the proper fork. "I understand Stark Industries recently released a prototype that was a blatant theft of some of your intellectual property," Erik sympathizes with Hammer. "I hope the court sees reason and awards you the damages due. You have my support, for what it's worth." While she doesn't like to be the hovering kind of waitress, Fern does, however, return with a pot of coffee rather quickly. Again, she waits for acknowledgement as she stops by Erik's table, before offering with a smile, "Would you like your coffee refreshed, Mr. Lehnsherr?" While addressing the customers by name may seem smarmy by some servers, who obviously intentionally do it in an attempt to ingratiate themselves to the customer, Fern merely does it as a matter of manners. "And how is your salad?" Still, although her attention is on the older gentleman, a quick glances makes sure nothing is obviously amiss at Justin's table. The Hammer Industries CEO can't cover up the slightly look of confusion on his face. He doesn't recall any recent issues with Stark, and if something IS going on, and he doesn't know about it, heads are going to roll. "We haven't had any recent issues with Stark, at least not of that nature," Justin replies to Erik. "Though I thoroughly plan to give him a run for his money here very soon with an improved version of the Bull Shark drones." Not much sense in keeping that one quiet, the drone project made Hammer Industries the laughing stock of the defense world for a good while, so most everyone already knows it's name. The relevant information is that it wasn't completely mothballed... "Very good, my dear. Perhaps some more tomato?" Erik requests with a polite smile. He turns back to Hammer, every inch the concerned and friendly face, with no indication that the master manipulator is pumping him for information. "I'm sorry- Bull Shark?" Erik asks, looking a bit blank. "I'm an educator, not an engineer. I'm not familiar with that piece of equipment. Is it quite dangerous?" he asks, taking another bite of his salad. Fern didn't miss that look on Justin's face on her approach, and she can't help but wonder at it's cause. But that doesn't show as she addresses Erik, "Right away, sir." Although she does pause briefly by Justin, waiting that beat, then asking, "Is there anything else I can bring you, Mr. Hammer?" The CEO shakes his head lightly to Fern. "No, thank you," he offers to her being uncharacteristically polite. Justin butters a piece of the rosemary bread and eats it before turning his attention back to Erik. "As with any weapon," he says, his tone trying to sound enlightened, "It all depends on how you use it." He grins somewhat slyly before continuing. "Unmanned, high-speed and stealth. And then some." Now he truly is at the point he can't say anything else without getting into classified information. "Ah, I'd heard something to that effect," Erik says with a nod. He takes a bite of his salad. "Well, it all sounds very fascinating. As I said, I'm an educator, not an engineer. Though, I have a bit of education in that arena," he confesses. "How would you compare the Bull Shark to Wayne Enterprises'?" the elder man asks, pushing his salad through the pool of dressing. "I understand they're moving more aggressively into weapons manufacture. Quite a showing they made for the Air Force last week." Fern nods to Justin and steps away. *squeak*squeak* to the kitchen. She gets a fresh tomato herself, rather than bother Manny when he's in the middle of something, and makes short work of preparing it for Erik, washing her hands before and after. She also checks on their dinners, which are nearly ready, and then takes the plated tomato out for the older man. She slips it onto the table unobtrusively, not interrupting as she eases away again. Justin actually snorts. "Wayne has a LONG way to go," he says. "A lot to learn..." He cuts himself off as Fern walks back over to the table. Not that he's hard to overhear, the man is sort of obnoxious, especially when he starts talking about his competitors. After the waitress takes her leave, he continues. "Wayne's a new player in this, and I just don't buy that he's going to have the cajones to really make a break. There's a lot more to the weapon's game than just making something go boom." "Do tell," Erik urges, nodding encouragingly at Justin. There's something positively grandfatherly in his tone- open, trustworthy, and easy to speak to. It lends itself to openness. "I thought Wayne was quite a player in the industry. I didn't realize he was so new to the game. What makes the Bull Shark superior to his drone equipment?" In the kitchen, Fern makes sure everything is coming together. She has the time, still, with only the two tables, and they're clearly both important men. Her concern is that they both leave with a smile, and recommend the restaurant. She doesn't rush the process, again giving the men a few minutes to talk about 'important man things'. Admittedly, Hammer is probably newer to the industry than Wayne, since his company was founded only a scant 16 years ago. But in his mind Justin is still a bigger player, far more an expert. "I have a feeling he won't take a chance on anything bigger than a stun-gun. Won't want to risk the company name on an idea. See, that's what you gotta do- that's what I do. Yeah, some of my equipment has had some issues, but I'm not afraid to keep trying to make it work." Hammer not-so-gracefully dodges the direct question about the drone's specifics. The conversation is starting to get dicey. "It does sound like you're making some progress. I'm particularly impressed with the stealth technology you're developing," Erik congratulates Hammer. "It sounds as if you've made some great strides in stealth technology. Tell me again how you overcame the RADAR resonance confliction?" Erik says, sliding his salad plate across the table. "I'm afraid I don't understand much about stealth technology- it's quite over my head." He seems, for all the world, to be a genuinely curious, if baffled, grandfatherly figure- his bright blue eyes are a bit owlish, and seem to lend to a trustworthiness that few people could aspire to, let alone attain. You know who can tell you about stealth technology? A good waitress. Fern employs some of her own, returning from the kitchen with a laden tray, but she clears her throat politely to announce herself as she nears the tables. She stops at Justin's table first, since he's two steps nearer the kitchen, and sets out his plates, then does the same for Erik, the picture of quiet efficiency. The last thing off the tray is a grater, loaded with fresh cheese. "A little cheese to top anything off?" she asks, looking at each man in turn. Justin Hammer is saved from having to answer right away by the arrival of the waitress and his meal. He grins and nods. "Absolutely," he says to her. Once she's moved on to Erik, he starts eating. His manners aren't poor by any means, but it's also obvious he's more new money than old. He wasn't raised high society or took a lot of time learning to act it. Once the waitress has taken her leave again, he returns to the conversation. "I like to think we're on the bleeding edge," Hammer says, in reference to his tech. "The drones have a combination of materials, geometry and engine enhancements that make them damn near invisible." Those are the basics of any stealth tech, that anyone who's watched the Military Channel could easily recite. He's either playing his cards close to his vest, or he honestly doesn't know how it works. "A few turns, yes," Erik smiles at Fern. He spears his noodles and takes a few cultured bites, then nods solicitously at Justin. "I've heard a bit about materials enhancement, but I know so little about it. It must be a fascinating field of study. Now, is it that the composite is angled, or is it the angle of the composite that makes stealth work more effectively?" he asks with a frown, as if trying to recall a stubbornly lodged bit of information. Fern sees to each in turn, at ease with her duties, performing them quickly, with a smile to each and a promise to return and see that everything is to their satisfaction. And another table has been seated, so she makes a beeline for the third table, a young couple. The next several minutes are occupied getting them situated. "It's really a combination of the two, six of one, half dozen of the other." Again, is Justin just being cryptic, or does he really not know. After all, he has a huge engineering staff that comes up with most of this. And stealth tech isn't his forte, actual conventional weapons are. Hammer continues to eat, and gets oddly quiet. He's starting to get the idea he's being pushed for information, and he's not sure he trusts the older gentleman. Erik smiles warmly at Justin. Who could resist that face? It's like every grandfather and favorite teacher, rolled into one. "Thank you so much for clarifying that for me. I do appreciate it," Erik tells Justin, sincerely. He pats his mouth with a napkin, pushing his empty plate away, and beckons Fern over. "The check please, my dear," he asks the girl. He reaches into a breast pocket and slips a card to Justin. "I do hate to presume, Mister Hammer, but if you are ever interested in helping at the Center, your presence would be greatly appreciated. An expert like yourself in engineering would be quite the celebrity at our student education center." Having just delivered the drinks to the young couple, Fern steps over immediately to acknowledge the request. "I'll bring it right out for you, Mr. Lehnsherr." Her eyes switch between the pair, and she asks with a smile, "Would either of you like dessert tonight?" Justin Hammer reaches across and takes the card, looking it over before slipping it into the inside pocket of his suit coat. "I'll definitely think about it," he says, offering a not-completely-real smile. "Anything to help the next generation of minds." To Fern's question he looks up, grinning a bit more genuinely. "Yes, actually. I'd love to see a desert menu." "None for me, thank you." Erik signs his check with a flourish, and leaves a more than generous tip. "Your service was wonderful. Thank you very much." He gets to his feet and gathers his hat and his walking stick, then with a slight bow to Justin, goes to take his leave from the restaurant. Category:Log